Page 62 of 1 Last Shot

They’re missing the best parts of you.

Kane’s words from yesterday suddenly appear at the forefront of my mind.

That moment, that simple comment, shook the very foundation of my world. Because he wasn’t trying to sell it to me, or convince me thatballet isn’t everything, the way that everyone did after my accident. He wasn’t lying just to seduce me–he was just being comfortably honest.

And it hit me, then, that I’ve been searching for that validation ever since my accident.

And he gave it to me, accidentally, during a playful moment between friends.

I knew Kane was a caring, genuine person even before yesterday. I guessed when I saw the defensive walls he put up, and I knew when he rescued Oscar. Seeing how he acted with me during and after the mugging only solidified that knowledge in my brain. Even without knowing everything he told me about his past, I’d still have the same opinion of him.

But now, hearing what he thinks of me…

You could be the greatest dancer that ever lived, and I'd still think the rest of you was more valuable.

It just makes me appreciate him even more.

So of course, he chooses that moment to text me.

Kane: Princess

Immediately, my heart rate starts to accelerate. How does one word, onewrittenword, make me react like this?

Because it turns out that Kane can play my body in ways I didn’t even know it was capable of.

Suddenly, my brain is flashing back to memories of last night.

Of Kane kissing me, touching me,fuckingme–

I rush to distract myself by typing a response.

Isabella: Hi :)

My phone vibrates almost instantly.

Kane: Are you at the ballet studio? I'm in the area

Isabella: Yea I just finished

Kane: I'll pick you up in five

I slide my phone into my purse, fighting the urge to squeal like a teenage girl.

I'm pulling a thin, off-the-shoulder sweater over my leotard when I hear the sound of Kane's motorcycle out on the street.

I've never slept with someone I wasn't seriously dating, so casual-sex etiquette is completely foreign to me. Will it be awkward? Am I supposed to be playing this cool? I don't even know if he wants it to happen again, especially if the way he left is any indication.

Even though my intuition tells me that was just a scared gut reaction.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I toss my bag over my shoulder and exit the ballet school.

But it doesn't work, because the second I see Kane, in all his heavily muscled glory, with his tattooed hands wrapped around the handlebars and eyes hidden by his helmet, those nerves flare right back to life.

I take a tentative step toward him.

Kane seems to have no such hesitation. He takes his helmet off so he can hang it on the handlebar and free his hands by the time I reach his side. I open my mouth to say…something, but I never get the chance.

Without a word, Kane grabs the bag from my shoulder and drapes it over the closest handlebar. Then he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me up against his body.

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